


I Think it Should be You Up There

by LizzyMidford



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean also drinks a lot, Dean is def not healthy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s10e21 Dark Dynasty, Established Relationship, M/M, Season 10 Spoilers, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, Spoilers, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, lots of pain, sam is very sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyMidford/pseuds/LizzyMidford
Summary: After the events of 'Dark Dynasty' and 'The Prisoner', Sam hurts.In which Dean didn't fully comprehend the weight of his words.





	1. Sam

Sam felt as though the weights had been put on his heart, like the muscle was used to them but weak and tired. Refusing to beat for any reason other than not knowing what else it could do. A shell that moves around with no real ability, almost soulless, but not quite there. Honestly, Sam wished he was soulless. He'd be able to live in apathy, no weights to keep him down, no longing in his heart. At that moment, Sam would've done anything to have been soulless. 

But, as fate would have it, rather than soulless, he was broken. Cold and lost, tired and alone. In the last 72 hours, Sam had lost his big brother, his best friend, his hope... Everything.

It was all too much, Dean's curse, Charlie's death. Being alive.

 _'I think it should be you up there, not her!'_  

Dean's voice echoed through his head, reminding him of all he had lost. Every time Sam closed his eyes he saw one of his past screw ups. He saw himself leaving for Stanford, crying at a bus stop, Dean had come to him two years later with open arms. He saw himself starting the damn apocalypse, Dean helped him clean up his disaster. He saw himself with Ruby, addicted to the poison already in his veins, Dean had tried his best to make him better, even if the process hurt. 

Not once did he think wholeheartedly, that Dean had stopped loving him. 

But, when he saw Charlie's body, wrapped and burning, all his fault, he remembered the apathy and hatred in his big brother's eyes. Sam saw any love Dean had for him, hanging on by a damn thread, leave, watched the thread snap. 

_'I think it should be you up there...'_

The thick anger made it clear that Dean meant it, wanted Sam dead with all he had, and for the first time since he was fifteen, Sam wished the same thing. Sam didn't know if he hadn't heard, or maybe if he just ignored Sam's, "me too.."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When he came back, Sam had dared allowing himself to hope, and got his heart shattered. He didn't understand the betrayal he felt, he should have expected it. 

Dean was gone, and Sam was alone.

Well, not completely. On occasion, Cas would talk to him, convince him to get up and eat, shower, all that nice stuff, but other than that, Samuel Winchester was dead to the world. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean had gotten him at his worst moment, told him to get down and look away. Sam immediately complied without a word, but shortly before the swing, he whispered a final 'I love you'. Dean swung, it hit Death

Castiel, though, had not given up. He had finally found and coerced Rowena into finding the spell and saving Dean. 

It reminded Sam of how selfish he was. His willingness to bring this ancient, unknown being into the world to have his brother by his side. He definately didn't deserve that, especially because of what he was willing to do to the  _entire world_ for it. 

But, there he was, picking Dean up off the ground, walking with him to the car. He hated himself a little more as he watched the shadow wash over the car. 

He hated himself a lot more when he realized he didn't care about the rest of the world as much as he cared about the man at his side.

But, on the bright side, with Dean saved, he didn't have anything else to do on Earth.

_'I think it should be you up there...'_

Sam hoped it would be soon. Though he really doubted the 'up' part.


	2. Dean

Now, Dean knew he wasn't the perfect big brother. Or boyfriend. Or father. Or person in general. Basically anything he was to Sam, Dean knew he was pretty bad at being. Never once in his life did Dean claim to be the best, well, seriously claim to be the best anyways. 

But he had  _never_ felt like more of a failure than when he saw Sammy that day, almost 20 years ago. The nightmares still haunt him of the day he found his baby brother on the ground, dying, and he realized that he could have prevented it. 

 _"Honey, I'm home!"_ _Dean laughed, returning from the house of this week's hookup. His mood elevated with a little bit of beer and promise to see his brother._

_But then he didn't get a reply. 'Big brother' instincts took over in less than a second, his smile dropping and brain switching to the Sammy station._

_Protect Sammy. Find Sammy. Take care of Sammy._

_His heart was pounding as he entered the motel room fully._

_"Sam?" He called, trying to keep the panic out of his voice._

_His eyes skimmed the room. Both beds empty, nothing out of place. No signs of forced entry or struggle._

_There **was** a figure blocking the light under the bathroom door though. A shaking figure._

_As silently as possible, there could be a monster in there with his baby brother, for God's sake, Dean picked the lock. It was a shitty door knob, he could open it with a small screwdriver._

_Dean almost regretted opening the door._

_He definitely didn't want to see what was behind it. Sammy was **dying** , but he was so relieved to not be too late. _

_His stomach dropped at the pill bottle on the floor. Prescription painkillers, the kind you take after a werewolf whips your ass six ways to Sunday, not the kind you want to find half gone next to your baby boy laying half asleep on a bathroom floor. Are there any pills you'd want to see in that situation, though?_

_"Sammy! Hey, kiddo, stay with me!" He called, dropping to his knees to inspect the scene. He held Sam's head up, seeing how conscious he was. Not very. "Stay awake for me, Baby. Come on, Sammy, we'll be okay..."_

_He picked the kid up easily, carrying him to the Impala, going straight to a hospital. Sam's head in his lap._

_"It's okay..." Dean whispered, mostly to himself. "Stay awake, Sammy, we're almost there... everything's going to be okay..."_

Dean shivered at the memory, remembering the panic in his throat when Sam's breathing slowed. Remembering the way that he felt when his entire world was tearing itself apart in the passenger seat of his Baby. 

After an experience like that, it's justifiable for Dean to be concerned every time his little brother gets distant, his nerves would jump when Sam avoided his gaze, and he would take note to watch him extra carefully. All the mess with Amara made it really hard to talk to him about it, but Dean always had that fear in the back of his head. 

_What if he's thinking of trying again?_

That fear that struck him even when he had the Mark. The aching fear that Sammy could die. Even when his mind thought of nothing but death, he still loved Sam. Even when he was a demon, he fought everything when imagining those hazel irises closing forever, let alone stomaching the idea of it being his fault. 

But the sinking feeling is getting more and more common. His heart racing every time his brother would leave his sight line. 

He stared at Sam with concern as the kid ( _'Kid' who's 6' tall and able to defeat an armed robber with his bare hands)_ poured over whatever he was researching. The deep  bags under his eyes showing Dean that he hadn't slept. 

_What if he's thinking of trying again?_

Dean shoves the thought away, deciding not to dwell on the fear. 


	3. Sam

Some mornings, when Sam woke up, he felt like he wasn't breathing. Like somehow in the night, all of the oxygen in the room had moved to the hallway, attempting to suffocate him. It felt like the weight of the entire world was on his chest, pressing him to his bed and keeping him from getting up to go to the bathroom, to eat, to do anything other than sit in his bed and try to piece together where he allowed his world to fall apart. 

Dean hadn't touched him since he came back. There was the casual brush, and the almost weird Winchester closeness in their day to day lives, but no actual, conscious touch. No hugs or kisses or even basic brotherly gestures that used to flow between the two of them. Sam didn't blame Dean, of course. Not in the slightest. With all of the ways that Sam had allowed himself to slip, he wouldn't touch him either. 

Sam began to fear touching Dean. Maybe he'd stain his brother with all of the blood on his hands, maybe he'd scare him away and be left all alone again. Maybe he was never good enough for Dean, and he had finally seen it, finally just noticed that Sam wasn't worth his time. Maybe Dean was just staying to be polite and touching him would be too damn much. He just made it up in his mind somewhere that Dean wanted to break up, and silently accepted it. 

Whenever Dean drank, Sam would too. It was an excuse to spend some quality time together, as well as a means to drink without being labeled. (Because "You're drinking too, Dean!")

The youngest would slip some whiskey in used beer bottles, vodka in old cans, anything in any container where he could pass it off. Alcohol felt nice, no matter how used to it you get, you never get over the sting of it making its way down your throat, no matter how much you drink, you'll always have a limit. Sam liked that limit, it reminded him that, even though in every other way he could be deemed a monster, he was still human. Still vulnerable. 

Sometimes, when he was lost like that, he'd see Lucifer. Cold surrounding him and infecting Sam as he inched closer to him. He'd whisper about how Dean didn't actually love him, every chance that he had, Lucifer was whispering, but it didn't matter, Sam had already stopped caring. 

He became this shell, ghosting around. 

This morning, Sam was breathing fine, to his annoyance. All he could do was stand up and go through the motions, similar to being soulless, but with a lot more pain. Somewhat like being in Hell, but this Dean was  _real_. 

As he entered the study, Sam smelled bacon. He laughed as he looked at his older brother, standing next to the stove with a large, childish smile on his face and a beer in hand. 

"Someone got up early!" Dean feigned offense at the taller man's comment. 

"I'll have you know, Sammy, I've gotten up every day this week before 11!" 

"PM!"

"Believe what you want, Bitch."

"You know I will, Jerk."

Now would have been the perfect time for a kiss. Sam shut that thought down as soon as it popped up, Dean needs to initiate it, he may not even want this. The insecurity solidified when he moved towards Dean and the man immediately jerked away from him, as though he were on fire. Sam suddenly wasn't in the mood for bacon, so he just grabbed a beer. 

"I made some turkey bacon for you, princess!" Dean called into the study as his little brother opened up a book, positioning himself comfortably. "You want me to grab you some?" 

"Nah, I'll grab some later..." This caused the blond to frown. 

"C'mon, it's best hot! You won't get grease on your little nerd book, I'll wipe it off for ya!" His voice was playful, but Sam could still see the 'I'm-the-big-brother-do-what-I-say' gleam in his eyes. 

"I'll get some, don't worry!" 

"Sammy..." His voice turned hard. His eyes were scanning for any sign of harm, 'Protector Mode' fully on and trained on Sam. 

Sam sighed, grabbing a piece off of Dean's plate, not caring about the fact that it was normal, greasy Dean food, taking a bite.

"There, ya happy?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he finished the bacon.

"Very!" The cheer in Dean's voice is obviously fake, but it was a victory for now. 


End file.
